


Room Enough for Two

by imaginary_iby



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_iby/pseuds/imaginary_iby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything else is the feel of Steve, warm and comfortable, sprawled lazily on their loveseat, arm slung across the back of the cushions and fingers scratching idly through Danny’s hair.  Normally Danny would bat him away, but between the beer and the fire and the <i>genius</i> that is couches on the sand, he’s too content to move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room Enough for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired loosely by [THIS](http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdymb6kxVJ1qazlk1o1_500.png) picture. I've been very dialogue-based, lately, wanted to try something a little more descriptive this time. Set late season two. I hope you enjoy!

The party is wild and alight, a collection of bonfires dotted along the beach, trimmed by bioluminescent surfboards as the young and the reckless indulge in a little late night surfing. 

They sluice through the chop, or what Danny can see of it by moonlight - his eyes are accustomed to the fire in front of him, and every time he looks away, the world turns inky and black. 

Across the flames, he can just make out the hazy form of Grace, holding her own at poker. The table seems to be half cop and half crook, but they’re playing for leftover party favors instead of coin, so Danny’s not too worried.

Something about the fire makes the world melt away, only a father’s instinct letting him track his daughter, a subconscious radar, transmitting requests for data and returning with _safe, safe, safe, safe._

Everything else is the feel of Steve, warm and comfortable, sprawled lazily on their loveseat, arm slung across the back of the cushions and fingers scratching idly through Danny’s hair. Normally Danny would bat him away, but between the beer and the fire and the _genius_ that is couches on the sand, he’s too content to move.

It’s nice, too, to see Steve like this – a complete dork when he’s had a few drinks. Danny’s not entirely sure what life was like at Annapolis, but he’s confident in thinking that for every night he spent awake at Rutgers, accepting increasingly stupid bar bets, Steve was 31 miles away, studying until taps. He gets goofy, and happy, all loose limbed and relaxed, and something warm curls in Danny’s belly at the pink tinge on Steve’s cheeks.

Steve makes a contented little noise, somewhere between a moan and a hum, and Danny turns in time to see him wrinkle his nose when a waft of smoke tickles his face. “Mmm?” Danny murmurs, which could be anything from _are you okay?_ to _do you want another beer?_ to _I love you._

Steve murmurs back, fingers drifting down to dapple across Danny’s nape, before cupping the curve of his neck and drawing him closer. Danny sways, listing into Steve’s side, thinking not for the first time that he fits nicely under Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve smells smoky and salty, and while the first makes Danny’s nose itch, the second is familiar, and he rubs his cheek absently against the soft cotton of Steve’s shirt. The world is nothing beyond this little couch, the crackle of the fire, his radar thumping away beneath his ribs, and he cocks his head when Steve whispers into his ear.

“I really, _really_ want to take you home and fuck you.”

The warm curl turns hot. Danny presses closer, hand smoothing over Steve’s chest to rest over his goofy heartbeat, and he’s about to lose his mind and start kissing Steve right there, when his radar pings. One of the poker players is banging his fists on the table, but he’s laughing, and Gracie is laughing, so Danny dials down his concern.

It’s like the world comes tearing back in, no longer just the inky night and fire, but music and chatter and dancing, people kicking up sand and surfers coming in from the water. Kamekona is holding court on the couch to their left, basking in the attention of being the birthday boy, but he’s got time enough in his busy social schedule to smirk at them knowingly. 

Danny scowls, juts his chin up in challenge, but he’s spared from Kamekona accepting by the arrival of Chin and Malia.

Steve sweeps off the couch, ushering Malia into his seat, her big belly making her movements a little awkward. She shivers, and Danny casts an eye at Chin before shifting closer, offering up warmth. 

“Having a good time?” she asks innocently, but Chin, ever the detective, smirks as knowingly as Kamekona.

They chatter until the fire burns low, Danny inching off the couch carefully when Malia falls asleep, letting her nestle into her husband. Grace wanders up, almost as sleepy as Malia, clutching an impressive assortment of poker-winnings, and it doesn’t take long after that to pack up and head home.

The drive is quiet and smooth, Danny tucked in the backseat with a snoozing Grace, while Steve makes small-talk with the taxi driver up front. By the time they arrive home, Grace is down for the count, and Danny scoops her up and into Steve’s arms. They wrestle over waking her up to brush her teeth, before finally pouring her into bed, clothes and all, sandals paired neatly by the door.

Danny’s naked by the time Steve finishes checking that the house is secure for the night – old habits die hard, it seems - and he lazily strokes himself as Steve gets undressed, smiling when Steve notices and hurries the hell up.

“Mmm,” Steve murmurs, an _I love you_ if ever there was, crawling on all fours over the bed.

“Come here, come here,” Danny whispers, spreading his legs, hair and warmth and invitation. The weight of Steve, cradled between his thighs, makes his cock jump, the crinkle of Steve’s pubic hair a perfect friction.

Danny hooks his toes under the sheet, tugging up until Steve grabs it – Steve had been offended by the idea of having sex under blankets, until Grace had walked in on them one night. 

Steve pulls up, and up, and up, until the sheet is draped over their heads, the glow of the bedside lamp only just permeating their cocoon. 

“What’re you doing, you goof?”

Steve grins, a three-beers-too-many kind of grin, and leans down for a kiss, lush and wet. Danny moans into his mouth, drawing his lip between teeth for a nibble, and it takes a great deal of effort to wrench his hand off Steve’s ass, quest across the bed and fumble blindly in the top drawer for the lube.

It’s a bit of a mess, really, between the dark and his own shaky fingers, and Steve doesn’t help the process by fucking between Danny’s thighs, impatient and in the way. “Stop it,” Danny hisses, a trail of lube smeared across his belly. “This is the least helpful you’ve ever been.”

“I’m always helpful,” Steve says, and Danny would argue if Steve didn’t proceed to prove his point, fingers sliding behind Danny’s balls and pushing in, gentle yet firm. Between the two of them Danny is slicked and ready soon enough, and he holds his breath as Steve slides in, one stroke until he’s deep.

Steve smells of stale smoke, and Danny guesses that he does, too, but they breathe each other in, noses squashed, lips dragging against stubble. Every time he thinks he’s gotten used to how it feels to be filled up, it feels even better than before, and it’s not long before he’s pushing back against Steve’s cock, heels digging into the mattress. He sweeps his fingertips up and down Steve’s back, broad strokes between his shoulderblades, just like Steve likes, and is swiftly rewarded when Steve gets a hand on his cock. 

The noise Danny lets out is almost embarrassing, and he fists a hand in Steve’s hair, tugging him back to look up at him, catch his gaze. It only lasts a second, enough for half a smile, before Steve is burying his face in Danny’s neck, shoving hard one last time and coming deep. Danny follows soon after, back arched, eyes squeezed shut, and he’d melt into the mattress if not for the fact that his legs feel fused, bent and tangled with Steve’s.

“Well, you’ve done it,” he says, trying to wiggle his hips and work out a cramp – hard, really, when pinned under 230 pounds of SEAL. “You’ve gone and broken me.”

Steve huffs, pulls out, and if Danny didn’t have beer and an amazing orgasm coursing through his body, he’d flinch in horror at how slick and gross his ass feels. “Oh, no you don’t,” he says, when Steve looks like he’s ready to flop on top of him and start snoring like a hippopotamus. “Lemme up.”

Grumbling ensues, and Danny flicks the light off when he gets up, because he’d rather fumble around in the dark than let Steve see the way he wobbles as he walks. Steve is a caveman, through and through, and he’d be insufferable, crowing for days about having made his mark.

Danny throws himself in the shower, hoping desperately that Steve is changing the sheets, and he groans with satisfaction when he wanders back into the bedroom to find a clean bed - complete with sleepy naked Steve. Icing on the cake, really.

Steve holds a hand out, and Danny grabs it, slides into bed, and the next thing he knows the sheets are being pulled back up over their heads.

“What’s this about?”

“S’nice,” Steve slurs, already giving in to sleep. “Our own little world, everything else fades away.”

Danny bites his bottom lip. “So, this was basically blanket-fort sex.”

Steve’s tsk is mostly asleep, but it does the job of conveying his disdain nonetheless. “Danny. I’m military. If we were having blanket-fort sex, you’d know about it.” He pauses, thoughtful. “Blaming that sentence on the beer, just so’y’know.”

“Probably construct turrets out of throw pillows,” Danny says, preemptively exasperated.

Steve squeezes his ass, pulling him nice and close. “Mmm,” he murmurs in Danny’s ear, his meaning as clear as day.

Danny can only smile, murmur back, and fall asleep.


End file.
